


Always

by LittleMissXanda



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Time Travel, Friends to Lovers, Multi, Slytherin!Harry, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 05:19:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6642913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissXanda/pseuds/LittleMissXanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More than anything, Tom Riddle wishes to have someone he can call his own.<br/>More than anything, Harry Potter wishes to be wanted.<br/>When both their wishes come true, they'll do anything to hold on to it.</p><p>Written by LittleMissXanda. Podfic by agentmoppet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kefalion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kefalion/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Frida :D I hope you have an amazing day.

He squinted at the bright light at the end of his bed. He had never seen anything like it. At first, he had thought that it was the older boys from the orphanage playing a mean trick on him, but he could not see anyone in his small room, and the light was not harming him. If it had been the older boys, then it would have hurt him for certain. They took every opportunity they had to hurt him. He might be tall for a seven year old, but there was only so much he could do against those that were ten or older. And he still could not completely control the strange things that happened around him, so there was not much he could do. Sometimes, after a particularly bad night or day, he truly wished to have someone that he could call his own.

There was a bright flare, so bright he had to shield his eyes, and then his room was plunged in to darkness once more.

He peeked through his fingers, curiosity winning over cautiousness, and almost gasped. He uncurled from under his blankets and slowly crawled over them towards the small bundle at the end of the bed. Carefully, he pulled the ratty blanket backwards, not able to contain a gasp when he saw the head of messy black hair and elfish features.

It was a child, a tiny child. He could not be older than three or four.

Carefully, he reached over and touched the dark hair, recoiling when the child moved. When he saw that the child continued to sleep, he reached over again. His lips twitched when he made contact with the silky soft hair.

That bright light, that could only be like the strange things that happened to him, had given him this child. He caught a darker thread on the blanket from the corner of his eye and glanced down, reluctant to completely look away from the tiny child.

“Ha-rr-y,” he intoned carefully, putting his meager reading skills to use. “Harry,” he whispered, looking back towards the sleeping boy.

The bright light had given him Harry, someone to call his own, and he would not let anyone take Harry from him.

* * *

Harry laughed, running from the older boy that was chasing him. He looked back, his eyes sparkling with happiness as he saw the grin on the boy's face. Tom only ever smiled like that for him.

It had been three years since he woke up in that small bedroom, with Tom's dark blue eyes locked on him. He had been terrified at first. He had had no idea how he had ended up there; the last thing he remembered was falling asleep in his cupboard and wishing really hard to be somewhere else, somewhere where he was wanted and loved. He had been young, he had just turned four, but he had known then already that the Dursleys did not want him, did not love him.

Tom had soothed him. Tom had promised to always stay with him, to always take care of him, and Harry had believed him. Not right away, he had been afraid at first, but then those big boys had come into Tom's room and had tried to do something to him. They had pulled on his arm and he had been so used to letting his cousin pull him around that he hadn't done anything to stop them, even when their rough pulling had hurt him. But Tom… Tom had defended him. Those strange things that happened to him, happened with Tom too and those boys had left.

And Harry, even as young as he had been, had known that he would always stay with Tom.

* * *

“ Come in,” Tom said as he heard the knock on his and Harry's room. Mrs. Cole had not been too happy with the arrangement; however, when Harry had cried his eyes out at the mere mentioning of them getting separate rooms, Mrs. Cole had dropped the matter. Though, to be truthful, Tom did not think she was truly all that bothered with it, at least not now. At the beginning, she had been afraid that Tom would hurt Harry as he had done the other children in the orphanage – which was stupid, of course, he would never hurt what was his – and she had been worried about where Harry had come from – no matter how used she was to children being dropped off at the orphanage, they usually did not appear over night; now, she thought that Harry was just as strange as Tom and seemed relieved that they were not spreading that strangeness around.

Mrs. Cole opened the door, and she ushered a tall, auburn haired man inside, before making a quick retreat. Mrs. Cole did not really like being near them.

Tom frowned, getting up from his seat and going to stand in front of Harry, who was looking at the newcomer curiously, big green eyes blinking innocently. Tom almost snorted, Harry looked far too innocent; he had lost count of the number of times he had to use his strange powers on men that had looked at Harry with those creepy looks.

The man smiled at them, but even so Tom did not let his guard down. That one man had seemed fairly harmless too, offering them a hot meal, and then he had tried to drag Harry away from him, as if Tom would let that happen. He had not stayed around to verify, but he was fairly sure that his strange powers had killed the man, there had been an awful lot of blood at least.

“Good afternoon.” The man continued to smile at them. “You must be young Tom. My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I would like to speak with you privately, if it were possible.”

Tom felt Harry grab the back of his shirt, and he reached backwards to take hold of the small hand.

“Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Harry.” He would not leave Harry, no matter what.

The man, Dumbledore, hummed, seemingly pondering his options. “Well,” Dumbledore said, “I came here to offer you a place at my school, Tom. It is a school for gifted young men and women, such as you.”

Tom narrowed his eyes. “Can Harry go too?”

“You see, Tom, my school is a school for special people. You have to have special talents to be accepted. If your friend, Harry, has those gifts too, then he can attend; however, one only knows for certain when he turns eleven years old.”

“Eleven?” He heard the faint murmur coming from behind him, and he squeezed the small hand that he was holding.

“Then I will not go.” Tom could see that he had surprised the man, but there simply was no way that he would leave Harry alone for three years. Harry could look after himself, he knew that, but he had promised. He had promised to stay with Harry, always.

“Tom.” He glanced back, locking eyes with bright green. “You have to accept, Tom.”

“Harry...”

“No.” Harry shook his head, getting up from his seat and smiling at him. “I want you to accept. I want you to go. I'll wait for you.” Harry smiled at him, though Tom could see his eyes were getting watery. “Now, talk with Mr. Dumbledore.” Harry hugged him and left the room, leaving him alone with Dumbledore.

Tom took a deep breath before turning around once more, noting that Dumbledore had kept his eyes on him the whole time. Tom's eyes narrowed slightly. He did not like the man. This man, with his twinkling blue eyes, would take him away from Harry. He was perfectly fine ignoring the fact that Harry had been the one to force the issue. Harry would always do everything he thought was the best for Tom, so it was only natural for Harry to force Tom to go to some fancy school. So, no, Tom did not blame Harry in the least. He did however, blame the man in front of him, for picking him and not Harry.

“So, Mr. Dumbledore, tell me about your school.”

* * *

 

Harry tried to be brave. He tried to be strong. He wanted Tom to go to Hogwarts, to go learn magic – what they could do was magic! How amazing was that? But he would miss Tom terribly. So, even though he tried to be strong, he couldn't stop the sobs from wracking his small body, as he tried to muffle the sounds he was making into his pillow. He didn't want to cry. He wanted to be happy for Tom.

He startled when he felt the bed dip and a warm body curl around him, only to instantly relax when he recognized Tom's scent.

He tried to stop his sobs, but when Tom gently took hold of his chin and turned his head, he lost any and all will he had to fight off his tears. He cried, burrowing closer into Tom's chest and accepting the comfort that Tom so willing gave him and only him.

He fell asleep wrapped up in Tom's arms and the promise of always ringing in his ears.

* * *

Looking at him, no one would know, but Tom was nervous. Three years; he had never thought that three years could be such a long time. Only spending Christmas and summer breaks with Harry had not been enough for him, for either of them really, even if Harry tried to keep up a brave face. But now it was over. Those three years were over and Harry was at Hogwarts with him.

In those three years he had done everything in his power to take control of Slytherin house. He had used everything at his disposal to beat everyone into submission. And now, as he entered fourth year, he ruled Slytherin with an iron fist.

That had not been his plan from the start; however, when he saw how those not of pureblood were treated in Slytherin he had decided to take control. He did not know Harry's blood status, he could not risk Harry in such an environment.

“Volo, Harry.”

Tom's head snapped up at the name, his lips twitching into a smile. He had found Harry with nothing but that faded blanket and his name stitched onto it. _ Harry _ had been the only name on the blanket, but they had needed a second name and family name. Tom, as the one who had found him, had named him. At first he had wanted _ Harry Tom Riddle, _ so that everyone knew that Harry was his; however, Mrs. Cole had not allowed it. Still, even as a seven year old, Tom had known what he wanted, and he wanted for everyone to know that Harry was his. _ Harry Lychnus Volo _ . Lychnus for bright and light, and Volo from Marvolo. Other people might not know, but they knew, and that was the only thing that mattered. He was glad that Mrs. Cole had forced him to attend mass so many times, otherwise he would have never known the Latin term for bright and light.

“Slytherin!” The hat cried into the Great Hall and for the first time since he stepped foot into Hogwarts, Tom genuinely smiled.

* * *

Harry was a nervous wreck, but he did as Tom had taught him and showed nothing but aloofness as he waited for the hat to shout out a house. Moments later, even though it felt like hours, the name Slytherin echoed through the large room, and Harry could not stop the smile from spreading on his lips.

He took the hat from his head and made his way towards the silver and green table. He completely ignored the first years sitting at the end and took a seat right beside Tom, smiling brightly at him.

“I'm a Slytherin.”

Tom chuckled, clearly surprising everyone around him, and stroked his messy mop of hair. “Yes you are.”

* * *

It was Tom's last year at Hogwarts and he was slightly apprehensive about leaving. Not about leaving Hogwarts, but about leaving Harry.

Harry had flourished at Hogwarts, growing more confident and charming with every passing year. That in and of itself was not the problem; the problem was that everyone else was noticing it too.

Harry was getting older, but he still looked as innocent as he had all those years ago – even though Harry was anything but. Harry had flayed a seventh year Gryffindor the previous year when they had tried to ambush Tom on his way to the dungeons. The student had survived and Tom was adept enough with memory charms to protect Harry, but that just went to show how vicious Harry could be if he was so inclined. However, Harry was still somewhat petite and slender, and had those bright green eyes that could lead a saint to sin, making him look like an innocent cherub that needed to be protected.

And those creepy looks that men had thrown at Harry when they had been children were popping up everywhere, the difference was that Tom now knew what those looks were. And Tom swore that if he had to see one more lust filled look aimed at Harry from the hormonal male population, then Hogwarts would be losing said male population in a rather bloody accident.

So no, Tom was not looking forward to leaving Hogwarts at all.

* * *

“Tom,” Harry called, while lounging on the sofa in the common room.

Tom look up from where he was holding court. The common room was almost empty, Harry being the youngest student around. The younger years were always ushered to their rooms when Tom held meetings, mostly because sometimes Tom had to punish someone and Harry had told him that if he scared the younger students right from the start then it would make it more difficult to have them following him as well.

So, when Tom had meetings, only students fifth year and up were present, and Harry, of course.

“Yes?”

“A boy kissed me.”

There was a loud crack and Harry turned to look at Tom, blinking when he saw just how pale everyone looked; well, everyone aside from Tom. Tom looked perfectly normal, if one disregarded the angry crackling of his magic around him.

Harry sat straighter on his seat, his gaze flicking back to Tom. “Tom?”

“Leave.”

With how fast everyone disappeared from the common room Harry would have sworn they had apparated.

Tom got up from his seat, walking towards Harry in slow strides. It always took Harry's breath away when he saw the effortless grace with which Tom moved.

“A boy kissed you?” If Tom hadn't been almost on top of him, Harry wouldn't have heard the question.

Harry nodded.

Tom took a seat beside him, his hand coming up and caressing Harry's cheek. Harry leaned into the touch, enjoying it immensely. Tom was still affectionate with him, but Harry missed the days where he simply curled on the bed with Tom and Tom would simply hold him. Harry had been afraid that Tom wouldn't want to do those things again. He knew Tom would never leave him, and he knew it was selfish asking for more when Tom already gave him more than he gave anyone else. But Harry _ wanted _ more. He wanted so much more.

And then that boy had flounced into the library, all smiles and laughs and had leaned in for a kiss. Harry could have avoided it, he could have done a thousand different things to stop the Gryffindor, but he hadn't.

He had wanted that kiss, not because of the teen giving it to him, but because he wanted to tell Tom about it. He wanted to see just what Tom would do. He wanted… he wanted to push Tom just a little further.

* * *

Someone had kissed Harry. Some nameless, faceless, soon to be dead someone, had kissed Harry.

“I see,” he murmured. “And… where did this boy kiss you? Show me.”

Harry pointed at his right cheek, so Tom leaned in and placed his lips right where Harry was pointing. He lingered for a moment. He pulled back slowly, eyes locking with Harry's. “Where else?”

Harry pointed to the left corner of his mouth, and Tom clenched his fist. Still, with tenderness that he showed no one else, he lay a gentle kiss on the corner of Harry's lips. “Where else?” he murmured against the soft skin, fighting against the urge to simply devour the cherry red lips.

“Nowhere,” Harry replied, gifting Tom with just a taste as his tongue peeked out when Harry moistened his lips.

“Good.”

Tom's hand rose to tangle in the black, silky looks, turning Harry's head just a fraction and claiming the sweet lips that belong to him and only him.

* * *

Harry sat at the breakfast table slightly dazed, though there was a smile playing on his lips. Tom was beside him, as was the norm, and there was no denying the smug satisfaction practically oozing off him.

Harry grinned at him fondly, shaking his head. Tom had kissed him. _ Kissed _ him. It hadn't been an innocent little peck like the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain had given him. It had been a true kiss, a claiming. Harry had always known that he was Tom's and Tom was his; however, this was different.  This was more, and Harry couldn't be happier.

Harry frowned looking down, what was that?

“Harry?” Tom was looking at him, concern clear in his eyes. “Is everything alright?”

“I… I don't know,” Harry replied, curling his arm around his stomach. “I don't feel well.” Just as he was trying to get up from his seat, he felt an insistent tugging at his navel. He looked up, eyes widening in panic. The tugging persisted, getting stronger with every passing second, and Harry knew that whatever was happening was bad.

“Harry!”

The last thing he saw was Tom's panicked face before everything melted into a swirl of colors.

Harry felt like he was falling, it felt like he was falling for years, second, months, weeks, days, he didn't know. He had no way of telling. And then the swirling colors stopped, he could see candle lights and the night sky, and then he slammed onto the floor.

He groaned rather thankful that the fall didn't seem to be all that bad, even though he had the feeling he had been falling for a long while, and dragged himself back on his feet, before looking around.

It took every shred of his self control not to gape at what he was seeing, because standing there, at the center of the head table, was Dumbledore, looking far older than he had been just that morning, surrounded by professors that Harry had never seen before in a Great Hall filled with students that were completely alien to him. In the middle of the room, just a couple of feet away from him, was a stand with a golden chalice or something of the like. And everyone, every single person in the Great Hall, was staring at him looking completely stunned.

“Harry Potter?” Dumbledore murmured, looking as close to flabbergasted as Harry had ever seen him.

“Come now, Professor, I may not be one of your Gryffindors, but I do believe that after four years you know that my name is Harry Volo, Harry Lychnus Volo.”

The slightly horrified ' _ Dear Merlin _ ' that Dumbledore uttered raised many eyebrows, not that Harry cared. The only thing Harry cared about was how to get back to Tom, and he had a feeling that Dumbledore would not make it easy for him to do that.

He narrowed his eyes slightly. Well, he would just have to deal with that, wouldn't he?

Tom and he had promised _ always _ , after all.


End file.
